


Sometimes it's love, sometimes it hurts instead (Whumptober '18)

by SunsetSwish



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poisoning, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetSwish/pseuds/SunsetSwish
Summary: 1. Stabbed       (3x10 || Alec)2. Bloody hands   (Canon Divergence, alternate meeting || Alec)3. Insomnia     (Canon-compliant || Magnus)4. "No, stop!"   (Canon Divergence, Edom || Magnus)5. Poisoning    (Canon-compliant || Alec)6. Betrayed      (post 1x09 || Alec)7. Kidnapped   (Mundane AU || Magnus)8. Fever           (Canon-compliant || Magnus)9. Stranded      (AU, Wings, Angels&Demons || Alec)





	1. Stabbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (episode 3x10)

He's on his back on the cold and hard ground, every bruise he has acquired is now pointed out to his nervous system.

Jace – Jace's _body_ – is going to kill him because of his incompetence in saving his brother. Magnus – gone because of Alec's incompetence in saving Jace. Lilith – out in the world, hurting people around him, hurting mundanes.

He's the Head of the Institute and he's going to die before fixing _anything_ about it. The best he can do is to die instead of killing Jace.

What an achievement.

His own weapon, his own arrow, one of many he cared for, maintained and fought with, is going to go through an important part of his body in a few seconds.

And it feels… it feels like he's pinned by it in time, unable to go back or forward. He used to have days when he thought he was living a nightmare, like it couldn't possibly be worse. He had those days before and after meeting Magnus but he thought it was getting better lately.

He's going to die when everything's going to hell. His brother possessed and hurting, his… _Magnus_ , gone. Gone to a place Alec can't imagine, to talk to someone Alec can't imagine, to ask for help which Alec doesn't have the strength anymore to imagine it'll come. He wishes he could see it, but he simply knows he doesn't have any more time left for that.

Pain doesn't ease when the creature in Jace's body is gone from his view suddenly. Bright flash, noise, a new voice coming from another direction. Alec can't turn to look.

Only when Magnus comes into his view, touches his hair, takes his hand, does Alec know it's him. Back. Unharmed and whole, back in their world.

There's still an arrow in Alec's chest and blood is soaking his shirt. He can feel it spreading down.

Even before he was stabbed his body was bruised and battered and while adrenaline leaves his bloodstream he has no help to push the pain back anymore. He only has Magnus's touch. It hurts to breathe, not to mention talking. Magnus asks him not to try. At the same time he's asking him for so much more than talking. He's asking Alec to hold on.

Alec should be doing something to help himself, anything, now that he's not actively fighting the demon but his right hand is a useless core of hot pain and his left is held in one of Magnus's. He wants Magnus to have his hand for as long as he wants, for as long as Alec stays in this world.


	2. Day 2: Bloody hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same universe, canon divergence (alternate meeting).

None of them had expected it to be this bad. They had expected trouble and difficulties, and wounds, and possible collateral damage.

But.

Alec sits down on a curb right outside what was, up until half an hour ago, the biggest vampire den New York had so far. It's over. The place is cleaned out, the victims carried out and the vampires mostly killed, a few taken to be locked up and then likely executed.

The den won't function anymore, won't trap any more people.

Why doesn't it feel like a win?

Why the satisfaction of a job done well slips under the uncomfortable knowledge that there's only wrongness around him? He'd done his part, had protected his team, had protected the victims to the best of his ability. Even so, his mind can't rest. Like a fog, the wrongness settles on everything, making him unable to enjoy success. He can't even move from where he sat down fifteen minutes ago.

His hands are not his own. That is, he can't see his skin. His skin is supposed to be just pale. Just his skin. It's red. All of it. His fingertips, his knuckles, red smears up to his wrists. It's all from the fight. He had used his bow for as long as he could but at some point he had to be on the ground in the thick of it with his sword.

He had killed many vampires. So many of them had been killed tonight that his mind refuses to accept what they've done is the right thing. Alec never had a high opinion of Downworlders but to have this happen under their noses in New York… it's just unreal.

It makes Alec start to think if he's done something wrong tonight. So he sits, stuck with circling thoughts and he can't find it in himself to get up and go look for his siblings.

-

Magnus isn't exactly supposed to be here, in the sense that he's neither vampire nor Nephilim. This is not his matter to mediate in. But he was asked to come, to be a voice for the Downworld just in case the Institute wouldn't listen to the vampires. This is bad. The whole blood den, all the mundanes who were used and killed… Magnus hates that the vampires would go so far but he's also afraid it's going to make things so much worse between he Clave and the Downworld.

So Magnus comes after he's notified of what had happened that night, thinking it'll be good to show up if only to offer magical assistance to those in need of healing.

What he sees after arriving is bad. He sees many tired Shadowhunters, some just tired, some hurt, some visibly agitated. They've set up a place already to tend to the Mundanes at the site and they'll probably be officially asking for warlock help with erasing their memories soon.

Magnus's eyes scan this crowd, looking for where he could step in. He knows many Nephilim will prefer to wait for their runes to help them rather than have his help and he's learned to assess people by observing them to avoid situations just like that.

He decides to approach two Nephilim women and it goes well- after healing the one with a nasty, heavily bleeding gash in her thigh, her friend gives him heartfelt thanks.

He moves on.

There is a young Shadowhunter sitting down by the sidewalk, his back hunched and his hands in his lap. Magnus can't tell if there is a wound that made his hands this red or if that's not his blood at all.

Walking closer, Magnus sees more details about the man and wishes he didn't. He's seen this before, in another time, in another place.

He's young for a _man_ but he must be a full-fledged _Shadowhunter_ by now. Magnus is familiar with their ways. Magnus is also familiar with humanity and Nephilim will forever be half-human, no matter how high they try to put themselves above the rest of the world.

And what Magnus is looking at right now is a young man made to fight, taught to be a soldier from birth. The faraway look in his eyes tells Magnus all that he needs to know.

The last thing the warlock wants is to spook him. Magnus's shoes make noise on the uneven pavement but if the Shadowhunter's too deep in his mind, he might not even hear his approach. It's unclear whether it's that or if he's ignoring Magnus when he comes very close and eventually takes a spot beside the man on the curb.

He has a pretty bad bruise on his face and it doesn't appear to be healing. He must not have used a healing rune yet.

Magnus has seen this before. Men in this position, with this look in their eyes. He'd been _a_ soldier as well as been _among_ them. Some of them, he'd known better than others. Some of them, he'd called _his_.

Under the sweat and the dust and the bruises, the Shadowhunter's features are striking. His dark hair and dark brows frame his face beautifully and Magnus wishes they were anywhere else but here, on a different day.

Slowly, carefully, Magnus reaches for the Shadowhunter's hands. They're still slick with blood but it's drying in places, creating a gross layer. Magnus had touched worse things. He takes the Shadowhunter's hands like they're fragile, like they're worth a lot.

There's no magic for show tonight, only magic to help. He makes the blood disappear, taking the red away. Not a speck remains on the young man's skin or under his nails. A sharp inhale escapes his lips at the burst of magic but he doesn't snatch his limbs away from Magnus. Magnus can see the Shadowhunter's eyes are still fixed on his own skin but there is something else now in how he holds himself. It's like he can breathe a little easier now.

"It's not going to change," Magnus says. "There will always happen to be someone strong enough to create their following, to gather enough power to hurt many people at once."

The Shadowhunter gives no reply, no sign that he's even listening but he stays still and doesn't pull away.

"There will always be a leader charismatic enough to make people fight for what is _wrong_. When it happens, all we can do is try to stop them in time." He pauses. Then, "I'd say _this_ was in time."

The Shadowhunter shakes his head.

"It was." Magnus tells him. His thumb traces half-circles on the Shadowhunter's palm. "When you're gifted with Foresight, _then_ you can blame yourself for failing. The world won't change but you can go home and rest, and be ready to _try_ and change it again."


	3. Day 3: Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> canon-compliant

In the night air, it is easier. In the night air, he can sit on his balcony and look down on the streets, never deserted but more empty the later it is. And then it starts again, first with delivery trucks at four am, private cars of those whose shifts begin early, or those who are coming back home at dawn.

It's easier to be at night. Darkness and less noise let his mind rest. He can't be rested, not when he isn't sleeping, but it's like a muting cover on his senses. He likes breathing cool air, a little bit fresher with less car fumes, a little bit more familiar. Night air tends to be the same in many places at the same times of year. It's different when the sun is out.

During the day, he hides in his loft but can't escape the light. Curtains are not the same as darkness, not when he's aware that it's daytime.

It's okay. It happens sometimes. He can't sleep sometimes. Two days, three days. Five days. It'd happened before and it'll happen again. What do four nights mean against four centuries? He'll sleep some other time, some other month, in a better time.

Time stretches and drags, and Magnus goes to bed alone. The fifth night, he tries to remember how it was to have a warm body to come to at night. He tries to imagine he has it now.

But he doesn't.

Days blend into one blur, nights stop bringing him relief.

He lies on his mattress alone, his head stuffed with cotton, his eyes too dry and tired.

It's fine. He'll be alone for a while, he'll find someone, he'll have them for a while… he'll be alone again. It'd all happened before.

On the fifth night, he feels as though his bed isn't all there physically. He's lying on it but from time to time he'll startle himself, thinking he's falling through it. Still, sleep won't come.

He prays for an anchor.

 

Alec comes back home at dawn when the sixth day begins. He steps in quietly, takes off his shoes, hangs up his jacket. He drops his pants and his shirt on the back of the nearest armchair and he enters the bedroom in underwear.

Angel, it feels so good to slip under the covers beside Magnus. Alec stretches out his legs, lets his back and shoulders relax. He'd slept enough in Alicante but he hated every hour he slept without Magnus. He doesn't want to wake his warlock up but he needs to put his arms around him, he needs to have him close.

 

When Magnus sleeps through the morning and wakes up long past noon, Alec says nothing. He must have needed it, Alec thinks. After all, it's possible he was out on High Warlock duties while Alec was away. It's not a reason to complain, anyway. Not when he got to hold Magnus through all the hours while he slept.

 


	4. "No, stop!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asmodeus had Magnus for a year.

It takes Alec a year. A year to find a way into Edom that he could use and bring through what he'd need to fight against what lives there. To fight against what rules there.

A year without Magnus. A year of desperation, of doubt, of heartache.

He is there now. He stands in the hall of Asmodeus's house and he won't leave without Magnus. For a half-angel, to be there in Edom… it hurts just to breathe the air. And Alec knows, it can't be much better for Magnus, who is half-human. It's all Alec can see when he looks-  _looked_ \- at his warlock. A man. He doesn't deserve to be trapped here, with the Greater Demon who does not deserve to be in Magnus's presence for even a minute. And he'd had him for a  _year_.

Alec won't let this continue for a day longer. He's here now to get Magnus back.

By the time Alec finds him, he'd already made sure that Asmodeus couldn't do anything against either of them. With borrowed Angelic powers he'd bound the Greater Demon in one place.

His warlock, his love, is locked in a gilded cage. Literally, a gilded cage. He's slumped down on the ground, one hand on the ground for support and it looks like it won't support him for much longer. His head snaps up the second he hears Alec's voice. His beautiful, golden eyes are dull and lifeless, his skin sickly pale, his face without a trace of make-up left.

He's exhausted. He's spent. He's without hope anymore.

Even when Alec steps into view, golden eyes barely widen.

Alec's heart breaks, surprising him. He didn't think it could hurt any more than it already has.

Unlocking the gold cage, Alec finds himself afraid of stepping inside. He's afraid of spooking his love. He needs Magnus to come to him.

 

Magnus leaves the cage as if in a trance. He moves but there's no goal in his mind. His eyes are open but what he's seeing registers only to confuse him.

His magic, his being, is corrupted, bound to this place,  _used_  by this place. Coming from his core but never his own, not here. His father pulled it out of him, unspooled it like thread whenever he needed – or wanted to. For as long as he's here, he can't pull it back inside him, he can't separate himself from his father's realm.

It's been like this for a year. For Magnus, it feels like ten.

And now Alec. His Alexander, to Magnus's demon eyes he's like a beacon of light among dirty shadows. He must have done something to himself, maybe used a special rune of some kind, or other angelic magic, to fill himself with enough power to make his way down here unharmed.

Only to see Magnus ruined and powerless to oppose his father. There isn't much of himself left, he thinks. What does he have to offer to Alexander anymore? Corrupted magic, his body carrying marks of his entrapment, a broken soul. He doesn't want to return to the world like this.

Alec puts his arm around him, guides him, supports him.

 

Magnus doesn't have his rings, Alec notices. They must be here, he thinks. He wants to find them, for Magnus. He sits the warlock down on a piece of cracked sculpture, one of many twisted pieces decorating this place. He puts his sword in Magnus's hands. 

"Anything comes near you again, it dies." Alec says. He'll protect Magnus before the warlock has to do it himself but he wants him to have a weapon.

He finds the rings along with an earcuff and a pendant. Asmodeus must have taken them from him to take away Magnus's identity. Satisfied with his find, Alec turns back. 

"No, stop!" Alec cries when he turns to see Magnus holding the adamas to his own throat. "Magnus! Look at me."

He does. Alec is faced with such wealth of pain in his eyes he doesn't know what to do.

"Please." He reaches out. "Give it to me."

Magnus does, his movements mechanical. He'd taken so many orders this past year that one more is nothing.

Alec grabs the sword, throws it behind himself as if it burned him. He takes Magnus in his arms, holds on tight, apologies and promises falling from his lips in a rush. Words of comfort, of love.

Magnus breaks in his arms, cries so hard his body shakes with it and only his Shadowhunter's grip on him holds him together.

When it passes, it's as if the last of his strength is gone. Alec gives him one more minute to settle, to calm down, before changing his hold on him and gathering him in a bridal carry. He's done so much to get here, to find Magnus, that carrying him all the way back feels like nothing. He'll carry Magnus for as long as he needs to. 

Their home is waiting for them. 


	5. Poisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> canon-compliant, random time

Magnus spends his day working and whenever he needs a break, he reads a book. He knows not to expect Alec before evening, since the Shadowhunters have a lot of work to do this week.

For some of the time Magnus sits on his balcony, the visiting cats keeping him company.

Alec comes home just after six, thankfully not looking too tired or too weary with Nephilim problems. Magnus comes to him to give him a welcome home kiss and then they move to the living room, where they sit talking for a while. It looks like they both had a productive day. They don't have dinner together, not yet, since Alec had eaten before with Isabelle and Magnus had bits and pieces to eat throughout the day whenever he felt like it.

-

Alec stands by the kitchen sink, a mug in his hand. He's listening to Magnus talk on the phone to someone. He's about to take another sip when… when something goes wrong.

"Magnus."

…

" _Magnus_."

"Yes?" The warlock just finished the phonecall and was still looking at the lit up screen.

"Did you have any guests recently?" Alec asks and his voice sounds so odd it makes Magnus look up at him.

Alec is pale, nothing like he was five minutes ago. He closes his eyes, his face scrunching up and Magnus realizes, to his terror, that Alec is holding back pain.

A whimper escapes him and his hand goes to his stomach as if his own touch could help. Magnus is up from the sofa and rushing to him, catching him just as Alec's arm shoots out to catch himself on the counter before his legs fold under him.

Magnus startled, confused. His brain is trying to make sense of what's happening by observing Alec and at the same time his magic goes out, trying to heal what he doesn't even understand yet.

Holding onto his middle, Alec cries out when he can't handle the pain any more. Magnus's hands on him steady him and give him a point to focus on while everything's getting fuzzy… but they don't help beyond that.

" _Alec_." He says, urgent. "Were you wounded?"

No, of course he wasn't, Magnus would have noticed sooner, wouldn't he? And what did Alexander say just a moment before? "Did you have guests?"

Magnus looks around frantically. The cup. Alexander was drinking when this happened. He was just drinking water from their tap, just filtered water.

Cup or the filter? Which one has been poisoned? When? Something mixed in the water or a hex? Aimed at him or Alexander?

 

Alec doubles over and retches. Magnus holds onto him, tries to soothe him, comfort him with words. It's good to throw up poison and– Magnus looks at Alexander's face and feels cold all over. Fear takes root in his lungs, in his veins because what comes up is just blood. Dark red blood, coming from inside Alec, where it should have stayed. Magnus is pushing his magic into Alec but it isn't doing _anything_.

Droplets of blood contrast with the pale lips of his Shadowhunter and there are tears stuck to his lashes while he keeps his eyes tightly closed.

Magnus needs help. He can't let go of Alec right now, can't bear to even think of letting go, but if magic does nothing, he has to do something else. A potion, a healing spell of a different kind, such as runes. He knows where Alexander keeps his stele while in the loft, he can go get it, and Alec should be aware enough to use it himself.

He has to choose and the choice seems impossible when Alexander suffers through another coughing bout, bringing more blood to his mouth, where it doesn't belong. When it passes, Alec raises his eyes to Magnus's, wide and fearful, and pleads with them without words.

"I need you to stay here, Angel." Magnus tells him. "Lean on the cupboards, just sit right here. Breathe."

Alec nods. Magnus pushes himself up, all but runs to his apothecary. He can't produce a correct potion without knowing what he's making an antidote for, but there are some formulas that have been used for years and years as foolproof help. If they don't work, they don't harm either. He can give Alexander something to support his body on the inside while it fights. He can give him a potion that he always keeps in two vials just in case of emergency. It's supposed to purge most poisons that are not made with magical or demonic powers.

He returns, finds Alec still sitting up but with his eyes filled with tears of pain and discomfort, and more blood covering his hands when he tried to stop himself from coughing it up. Magnus talks to him, tries to calm him down so that his breath slows enough to let him drink without choking.

Every sip is a struggle but Alec manages to get two vials down.

"I'd give you some water, love, but I don't want to make you throw it all up." Magnus rubs his back, tries sending his magic out again to understand what's wrong with Alec.

"Here." He pushes the stele into his hands. He'd grabbed it when he was coming back with the vials.

Alec's hand shakes when he brings the stele up to activate iratze and then draws another rune on his hand. Magnus waits to see improvement but there isn't much to see. Well, there is definitely an improvement in Alec's breathing but that started after the potions. And it's not enough. Not when his love is bleeding out.

Instead of trying to heal, to reverse the damage done by poison, Magnus sends his magic out to support whatever is failing inside Alec. He sends magic to keep his blood going around, to keep his lungs working.

They spend a horrible few minutes together when Alec's couching and inability to draw breath properly sends the Shadowhunter into panic, which only makes everything worse. It feels like ages before it passes, Alec calming down a little with the help of Magnus's words and a push from magic. They're both exhausted by then.

When Jace barges in, no knocking, Magnus is _grateful_. He's not surprised. For how bad it looks on the outside, it must feel terrible through the parabatai bond.

"Alec!"

"Hold him." Magnus tells him.

Jace wraps one arm around Alec, his eyes as wide and as shocked as Magnus has felt. Without being prompted, Jace uses his other hand to draw more runes on Alec's skin. One more iratze, one other rune. They help about as much as Magnus's potions did.

Jace looks to Magnus, then, question clear in his eyes. 'What happened?', 'He was with you' and 'how could you let it happen'. That's what Magnus sees in Jace's eyes because that's what he's asking himself.

"Help me get him on the couch." He says.

Then: "Stay with him, I have to figure out a way to fix this."

Alec gets worse when lying down so Jace gathers all the cushions to prop him up so he can draw in breath easier. Every time is a fight. Alec's breathing is shaky, noisy gasps, interrupted when he nearly chokes on his own blood. It's getting worse, Magnus sees that.

"Jace!" He gets the Shadowhunter's attention. "Do everything you have to do to keep him alive. Use your bond. Until I have the cure, he has to stay alive."

The Shadowhunter just nods, too stricken by what's happening to question any orders coming his way right now. Magnus is the only one who can help his brother now, if runes do nothing.

Alec can't seem to be able to keep his eyes open anymore. Between gasping breaths come whimpers of pain. He's apparently calmer now but it's just an illusion of improvement. For him, almost every part of his body is on fire, like it's falling apart on the inside. Alec doesn't remember being this scared before. He can only cling onto the thought of both Jace and Magnus being _there_ , helping him. If they manage on time.

Magnus calls Catarina. He'd tried before, of course, but her phone was off and he knew she was working. Now, though, she does answer. He pleads with her to come, _now_ , his voice breaking though he didn't intend it to.

Once she's there, they work together. They agree that it was poison in their water, _in their home_ , that hurt Alec.

A time comes, blood-freezing moment, when Alec can't catch breath at all, can't draw any air in for how badly he's choking. They'd hoped the bleeding was slowing down, but apparently not. His fingers are closed on Jace's arm so tightly he'll surely leave bruises there. Jace doesn't mind. He barely feels it. All there exists for him at that moment is their bond and his _will_ to keep Alec's body going. The pain is shared between them, the fear and the struggle to fight against it.

They can't fail, not now.

 

To force Alec to drink anything proves a challenge. Letting air pass in is difficult enough, drinking anything is worse. Magnus ends up having to sedate him to a point where he can instinctively swallow the potion Cat and Magnus prepared for him.

It tastes like blood. Of course it does, everything does. At first, they all think it doesn't work. Alec's still sedated by the spell so it isn't exactly easy to see a difference made by the potion itself.

But it works.

Alec is the first to tell the difference. It's as if he had a thorn in his side that was just now pulled out. The grip the poison had on his internal organs loosens and goes away. Pain doesn't go because the damage that was already done remains. He still tastes copper and iron because it's still in throat and lingers in his mouth.

But he stops fearing death.

He falls back on the pillows, his body weighing a ton suddenly. Jace panics at first because he thinks his brother passed out. But then he feels the relief from Alec. The death grip Alec had on his arm loosens.

Jace puts his face in his hands, gives himself a few seconds to just breathe. Then he takes Alec's hand again. Just to feel him.

Magnus is on the opposite side, watching Alec like a hawk. His face shows a mix of emotions with relief slowly blooming to balance the worry. Catarina puts her hand on his shoulder, gives him a reassuring squeeze. Then she moves closer to hover her hands over the unmoving Shadowhunter.

"Our magic works now." She says. The poison doesn't negate it anymore and she can heal what was hurt. Magnus has used up quite a bit of his own strength, he lets Catarina work. He'll keep his remaining reserves for later, just in case.

Alec's breathing finally completely evens out, slows down to the regular rhythm. He seems asleep, or he may need the time to just lie and rest.

Jace sits on the floor beside him, leans his head on the couch beside his hand holding onto Alec's. He's exhausted too. Mentally, because of the fear and on a deeper level, because of the bond. He lets himself close his eyes.

-

When Alec wakes up it must be the middle of the night, since everything's dark. He stays still, enjoying the simple comfort of having the pillows and the couch supporting his body. He tries very hard not to recall the events of the day. He knows what happened to him, he doesn't want to fall into memories and relive it. His body's filled by the familiar sensation of having been healed by magic. He also knows it wasn't Magnus's magic, not entirely. But it's fine. He feels Magnus right there, beside him on the couch, pressed up against his left side.

To his right, he knows he has his parabatai.

He wonders if Izzy has been by. She must have, Jace would have called her. She'll probably be back later. It's okay, Alec will talk to her then. After he's rested.

 


	6. Betrayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post episode 1x09

Alec presses his fingers into the bridge of his nose. A migraine-like headache has taken over, making him more miserable than he already was. He wishes he could at least stop thinking while he's like that.

But he can't. He can't stop thinking, he can't stop replaying the recent events at all. Alone in his room in the dark of the night, he has nothing but his thoughts for company. He only has one night lamp on, so that at least his eyes don't hurt.

His parents- for all their pushing, for their sanctimonious attitudes, they were worse than he could ever be. They set him and the rest of their family goals that they couldn't achieve themselves- make their family look good, the perfect Shadowhunter examples.

And he'd tried. Angel knows he's still trying.

For what, he doesn't know. His siblings don't make it any easier for him. They can't even see what he's doing and they definitely don't appreciate it.

He'd had to fight Jace. He'd had to see his sister on trial for the very thing he he'd been trying to stop.

Then the worst of it- Jace going with Clary, as was his habit now. Going with her, taking the Cup, leaving Alec with nothing. It was going to be like this now. Jace going with Clary instead of Alec.

And Iz… she wanted to save the Downworlder she actually knew personally, he _got_ that. And yes, he was aware of how fucked that situation was but those were the orders from the Clave and not to follow them was… Well, it doesn't matter now.

What matters is what they did to stop it. Jace, Isabelle, Magnus. He knows Magnus had to be the one to help them, there was no other way for his siblings alone to open the safe. Not without his stele, which they were never close enough to. But Magnus didn't need to be close. He only needed to know where to magick it from.

Alec thought that putting an end to that _thing_ , thing that never had a chance to _be_ between them was painful enough. But it could hurt worse, and it hurts now: Magnus had done that, stole his stele, before Alec told him they couldn't be a _thing_. He'd done that while still interested in Alec… While still trying to convince him… and went behind his back. Alec doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand, and he wants to. He wants to know if he's doing everything wrong instead of fixing things. He wants to understand why everything's falling through his fingers or breaking in his hands while he tries to make things _work_.

If he's in the wrong, then he's lost everything that matters.

If he's doing the right thing, he's being abandoned by those who matter.

 

He can't sit here. He pushes himself up to stand, walks into the corridor, choosing the direction at random. It's a quiet part of the night. Who's supposed to be on patrol is out, the rest of the Shadowhunters are resting before their shifts.

He doesn't want to run into any member of his family.

He's passing a door that's open just a crack, letting a sliver of lamplight out into the corridor. He pauses, realizing his by Lydia's room. He could keep walking, but. He'll see first why she's awake.

Knocking gently, in case she fell asleep with the light on, he pushes the door to see inside. Lydia's on her bed, sitting cross-legged in her silk pajama set, a robe over her shoulders for warmth. Array of papers takes up the space on the bed in front of her, set up in a pattern she made for herself.

She's playing with a pen in her fingers, absentmindedly, and that stops when she sees Alec peek in.

"Oh. Hey, I thought I could get caught up on this." She says.

Many answers come to Alec's mind but what he goes with is this: "I can't sleep either. Do you need some help?" He nods at the papers.

She smiles. "Sure. Why not."

Alec comes in, finds a position comfortable enough for himself to read and write in. They split the tasks that Lydia set for herself between the two of them and get to work.


	7. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mundane AU, established relationship

Alec paces the floor. Magnus's phone went right to voicemail ever time Alec tried to call him and not one of his friends could say he was with them.

Alec knows everything's wrong. Today is the day that the other shoe dropped, he knows it. It's what happens after two weeks of Magnus constantly looking over his shoulder, of his nightmares, of the missed calls from restricted number on Magnus's phone.

The police tells him that Magnus is an adult and because of that, minimum time of being missing applies here. It doesn't matter how many times Alec tells them this is not a case of lovers' quarrel that ended with Magnus disappearing without so much as goodbye. He tells them Magnus would never leave Alec in the dark even if something as simple as a broken or lost phone happened to him. Magnus could charm an emergency phonecall out of any passer-by he wished to. He could charm any sort of help out of anyone, so the only reason why Alec doesn't know where he is yet, is that he _can't do anything_ about it.

Alec pleads, and reasons, and gives the police "evidence" of foul play until the more soft officer sighs and agrees that Alec's partner is most likely missing due to foul play.

His evidence is this: even if Alec were an abusive partner, Magnus wouldn't leave him without taking his cat with him. Alec presents the cat to the officers.

He lets them look at Magnus's office, with his almost finished projects spread over his large desk. Magnus's laptop, not turned off and charging by the window.

Most importantly, however, Alec tells them Magnus has been kidnapped before. Years ago, as a child, by his own father. He tells them to check the records to see he's telling the truth.

Thinking about it makes Alec's blood cold. Pressure on his chest only increases as hours pass. He never wanted this to happen. He'd told Magnus himself, he'd look after him. Yes, he'd been tipsy then, on their third date when Magnus shared first vague pieces of his history with him. But he'd meant it. The more he knew his lover, the more he wanted to look after him.

And it'd been good for a while. So good.

Until this month, until two weeks ago.

Now, Magnus is gone with Alec unable to find a way to get him back except to tell the appropriate forces.

*

Magnus's left elbow hurts. He'll have a mighty bruise over it, he's sure. Too bad that all the aches he's suffering now are for nothing. He'd failed to free himself. The dark walls of his current holding place don't tell him much about where he is. He's not even sure if he's in a concrete building or something that can move, like a cargo container.

He doesn't know what time it is and what Alexander is doing now. If he knows.

If he's safe.

At least he was grabbed and taken away from their home, where Alexander could have gotten hurt as well. What a shitty silver lining on the stormcloud hanging over his life.

Magnus never felt truly safe. His father had permanently scarred him and no amount of therapy can let Magnus rid himself of the fear. Not as long as his father is out there in the world. Well, out _here_.

He found him and he managed to steal him, once again.

Alexander knows his history and it'd been wonderful to be on the receiving end of his affections. His sweet, shy ways have won Magnus's heart from the start and it took no time at all for them to be in love. He wants it back. He wants to go home, call Alexander's name, have him hug him.

Magnus wraps his arms around himself. It's not very cold in where he is but his body is having a reaction to his fear and his stress, and he's shaking.

He's still weak. Even as an adult, after all these years, his father makes him feel like a weak child.

He's moved (manhandled) into a room. It's a normal room at a first glance: a very nice bed with a soft duvet and a bedcover, a desk made with real wood and a nice chair. The widow has bars in it. Outside the doors, Magnus knows, will be a guard. His father's goon, one of those who dragged him here.

He doesn't refuse dinners with his father because he wants to have his strength and his mind clear. He talks when he has to, he doesn't pretend there's any chance his father can convince him to be on his side. He doesn't have it in him to pretend, even if it'd help him. He doesn't want to pretend.

He's not a child anymore and he won't do anything to please his parents. He knows now there's nothing of value to be gained by that.

Magnus isn't afraid of being _hurt_ , not really. This is his father, and he won't have Magnus beaten for his lack of cooperation, no.

For all that Magnus has told Alec about himself, he never specified one detail. The last time he was taken, the last time he _came home_ , he found his mother dead.

At night, he dreams of coming home to Alec, dead.

He daydreams of Alexander coming to find him.

*

Alec barely sleeps anymore. Izzy comes regularly to check on him and basically hold his hand while trying to convince him (and herself) that they'll get Magnus back.

Jace and Clary drop by with dinners to make sure he has something to eat at least once a day.

Detective Garroway drops by to update him on their efforts to find Magnus.

Alec pets Chairman Meow, and hopes.

*

Magnus comes home after three weeks. He knocks on the door instead of ringing the bell and Alec comes to check who's there, confused. Magnus is leaning on the door frame, exhausted, dirty, but smiling.

Alec's heart stops. His eyes tear up almost immediately at the sight of his lover, bruised but breathing, there in front of him.

"Magnus…" He whispers, like calling him by his name will make him more real, make him stay.

"Hello, darling." Magnus says, his smile growing. He made it. He made it home. Alexander is within reach right now, and Magnus can hold him.

He does so. He crosses the distance between them and wraps his arms around Alec, who reciprocates immediately. He holds Magnus tighter, rambling all kinds of things- _I missed you, oh thank god you're safe, I love you, I couldn't live if you didn't come back_.

"It's over." Magnus whispers where his face is pressed against Alec's body. "It's over, Alexander."

"What happened?"

"He won't find me anymore. He won't come after me anymore."

"Okay." Alec says. He doesn't know what Magnus did, what he had to do to come back. He doesn't give a damn.

"Okay," he repeats.


	8. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random point in time, canon-compliant

Sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, Alec reaches out to the bowl to soak the small towel in it. He wrings the excess liquid out before moving to dab the towel over his husband's face. Magnus is burning up, as he has been for the past several hours. It's not getting any better but at least it stopped getting worse.

Catarina had prepared a whole pot of the mixture for Alec to pour bit by bit into the bowl he uses to soak the towel in. She's gone to the Spiral Labyrinth, determined to find the cure they've failed to find without additional help. Catarina had tried her own magic, then Magnus's books. None of the original ideas helped end the fever or even bring Magnus back to consciousness.

Ever since it hit his body, he's been unresponsive in his bed where Alec had carried him. If only he was a warlock too, Alec could at least change the bedding more effectively than what he can do now. He doesn't want Magnus to be on soaked-through sheets but he also doesn't want to move him around too much. He makes sure to at least change the towel he put on the pillow frequently.

Being sweaty is not _the_ problem here. Alec worries about what the fever is doing inside his partner's body. He worries about what it's doing to his mind.

He aches in sympathy when he watches Magnus's face scrunch up, his eyes tightly closed. Sometimes a sigh or a whimper will leave his parted lips, making Alec come running from wherever in the bedroom he was at the time. Alec holds Magnus's hand, promises to bring him another dose of the potion Catarina also left for him to drink.

Making Magnus drink is a task more difficult than most of what Alec has ever done before. He sits on the bed behind Magnus, pulls him up so he can lean against Alec's body. From there it's all slow attempts at pouring the potion past his lips without causing him to choke on it. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes Alec has to stop and wait. He's already done this several times since the beginning and he can't tell if it's helping any.

He keeps giving it to Magnus because it's not making him any worse and Alec doesn't want to risk stopping.

 

It's been eight hours now. Alec had returned from a patrol that had started in the late hours of the night. It was past dawn when he entered the loft only to find Catarina on her knees, bowed over Magnus who was motionless on the floor. She'd told Alec Magnus called her himself, making little sense and the call cut off suddenly, prompting her to just portal over to check on him.

She'd found someone else's magic signature in the loft but whoever it was, they were long gone. Magnus didn't regain consciousness since then.

 

Eight hours become fifteen. Alec washes Magnus's skin with wet towels and prays to the Angel that Catarina returns soon.

 

It's very late evening when Magnus speaks. It's gasped half-words at first and Alec struggles to catch their meaning while hovering over Magnus, pleading with him to open his eyes. Soon enough Alec realizes he's only talking through his sleep, not consciously.

...Which only makes it worse when Magnus's eyes open. Glassy warlock eyes unable to focus on anything stare straight ahead. His normally slitted pupils are blown. Alec's there, frozen, listening to Magnus attempt to talk. Nonsense sentences become more put together when Magnus says Ragnor's name. He's talking _to_ Ragnor as if he's seeing him.

Alec replaces the now warm cloth on Magnus's forehead with another, cool one.

He listens. Magnus isn't talking to Ragnor like he's alive. No, even in his feverish state he remembers his friend is dead. Whether that makes it better or worse, Alec doesn't know. He doesn't want Magnus to be seeing dead people like they're keeping him company. But what can he do? Magnus won't listen to _him_.

Alec can't leave the room but it feels like intrusion to be listening to what Magnus is saying - or trying to say - to Ragnor. It's apologies and reassurances, and 'I miss you's. Alec's heart aches for Magnus, for his loss. Alec hadn't been there properly for him in the days after Ragnor was killed.

Eventually Magnus's energy runs out. He doesn't talk anymore and can't keep his eyes open. He sleeps.

 

In the meantime, a fire message from Catarina reaches Alec. She promises she'll have the cure before the next dawn.

Alec waits.

 

"Alexander…" Magnus manages to say and that catches Alec's whole attention. The Shadowhunter was sitting in the armchair he'd dragged for himself to Magnus's bedside. He was leafing through the warlock's books, those about healing, just to keep himself from losing his mind. He didn't eat but he made himself some tea which is still half-full on the night table. He puts the book away and stands up to come sit on the bed instead. Glassy cat eyes are on him, following his movement.

"Hey," he says and is about to ask "how you're feeling" but he doesn't get to do it because Magnus speaks first.

"Alexander… you're here." Magnus's voice is quiet, not as strong as it was when he talked to Ragnor. Alec leans closer, lays his hand over the warlock's where it lies on the bed. He gives him this point of contact as if it can anchor him in the here and now.

"I'm here, Magnus. Don't worry about anything." Alec says quickly.

"I loved you the most." Magnus says, honest in a raw way that makes Alec pause.

"I love you, too." He replies, confused at the way Magnus constructed that sentence.

"I missed you." Magnus whispers. "I'm glad…" He trails off, his fingers trying to lace with Alec's where their hands touch. Alec grabs his hand in both of his and holds on tight.

"I'm here. I'm here with you." He says and although he means to comfort Magnus, it comes out like a _plea_.

"I'm glad you came for me. In the end."

Alec's throat closes up. Magnus is suffering, living a life in his fever dreams and believing them to be true. He's looking at Alec like… like he hasn't seen him in years.

"I'll stay with you, love. Right here." Alec tells him, his voice as thick with emotion as Magnus's is. He squeezes the weakened hand in his.

Magnus leans back on the pillows like he's relieved but feeling heavier at the same time. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"You can rest." Alec lets go of Magnus's hand with his right so that he can touch his husband's face. He cups his cheek, trying to ignore how hot his skin is. Magnus leans into his touch, his eyes closing when Alec starts rubbing gentle circles on his cheek with his thumb.

"You can rest." He repeats. "I'll watch over you, I promise. I'll stay with you but you have to _stay with me_."

He sits like this for a long time, caressing Magnus's face until he's sure the warlock is sleeping. He prays that this time he might get some true rest and that Catarina gets back before Magnus wakes up and says something that'd break Alec's heart even more.

 


	9. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, wing-fic, Edom

The very air is hurting his body. He needs to breathe but pulling in Edom's hot, metallic air fills his lungs with something which doesn't really benefit him.

His feet and calves ache with how _long_ he's been walking. There is nowhere for him to go but he can't stop. Ahead of him, landscape of broken, burnt trees, pools of acidic liquid and stones sharp like glass shards stretches until horizon, giving him no point of reference at all.

He's lost. Or rather there is no door to which he could walk to escape this.

He was left alone.

They've been battling demons. It was bad, the number of them crossing into the mundane world. Shadowhunters from more than one Institute were there, keeping them back, cutting them down, closing demonic portals. It was very hard work but they weren't losing.

There was one of the most important battles. Alec had worked on forming the plan with the other leaders for days and it all came to fruition that day. Once again, it was a hard fight, requiring effort and skill, and they'd done their best. They were pushing the demons back.

Until the portals opened. It was chaos from there, the additional pathways for demons forcing the Shadowhunters to regroup, seek safer spots, rethink their course of action. And they did it, they gave out new orders, took a breath, and jumped back into action.

They had warlocks with them, one High Warlock and her subordinates and they were immense help to the Shadowhunters.

But they couldn't help Alec now.

He'd fallen through one of the portals, a demon's claws piercing through his jacket, demon's tail wrapping round his quiver strap. When it fell through the portal, already dying from one of the warlock's spell, it dragged Alec with it.

He fell onto the red ground of demon realm, biting dust rising in his face from his movement. The demon's remains cover him in tar-like substance.

He was still for a while.

Then, he walked. There was no portal he could see from this side, no path for him to retrace. He could only move forward because standing still means giving up.

 

Dust and heat hurt his wings. His skin is dry, his lips chapped. In the demon realm his runes light up on their own, all at once. It comes and goes, as if there are waves of energy his angel blood is reacting to.

He gets used to the pain. His hands are bloody from when he had to break his fall and sharp rocks pierced his skin. He has nothing to wipe them on, since his black clothes are now gray and red from the dust.

His wings are dirty, too.

The first time a feather falls out, loosened from the battle in the mundane world, he picks it up immediately. He won't be leaving his feathers in any demonic realm.

He picks up the second and third, and fourth.

 

The first time a demon finds him, he kills it. It thought he was weak, an easy prey. But he wasn't. His runes lit up all at once, his blade lit up to his will.

The second time a demon comes for him, it goes much the same.

 

Alec walks. There is no rest for his eyes, no change from the red, red, _red_ of the realm he's in. No shelter from the wind carrying dust into his nose and eyes, and feathers.

 

When a third demon finds him, Alec's on his knees. He's stopped walking some time ago. There isn't part of his body that doesn't hurt. He sits on his heels and the hard ground is digging into his legs through his filthy pants.

Worse than that, his very soul burns against the corrupted, twisted world he's in. It's no place for a Nephilim to be. His angelic blood runs hot, lighting up his runes from within, urging him forward, to destroy the demons in his path, return to where he's supposed to be.

But he can't move anymore. And it's just as well. He would have tried to fight if the new demon was an animal. If it was basic, mindless creature, he wouldn't have liked it to kill him. But it's not an animal.

The new demon has human body and large, blackened wings at his back. He walks towards Alec without hurry.

It might be better like this, to be killed quickly and not have his throat torn out by teeth and claws. He can't hope to fight and win against a demon this strong and he has no will left anymore to prolong his own pain and humiliation. He'd rather be killed quickly.

The demon approaches silently, no taunting coming from his lips. No threats or questions. Alec isn't looking up at him anymore. His eyes are on the ground in front of him, catching the demon's feet and legs in his peripheral vision as it closes in.

"Child of the Angels." It speaks but Alec doesn't wish to reply. What use would speaking with demons be?

The demon waits and when it doesn't get anything, it crouches down. Alec can see its limbs, the black claws out of place on otherwise human-like hands. He jerks back when one of those hands touches his face, forcing his chin up so the demon can look in his eyes.

"You're very far from home." It- he- speaks. "So am I." He adds.

Alec's sword lies useless on the ground beside his right knee. The demon ignores it but it takes interest in Alec's left hand. It's still closed on the bunch of feathers he didn't want scattered in this realm.

The demon makes a sound, almost a soft one.

Even now, Alec can feel how sick his wings are, more feathers loosening, waiting to fall out. The demon doesn't have such problems. His wings are charred already, though still making him capable of flight.

In delayed reaction to a demon's touch, the runes in his skin begin to light up with no conscious input from Alec. It's just as well, might speed up his end a little.

But the demon doesn't answer to the threat. His strange eyes are on Alec's again. "There's no need for this. I can help you get out, go back topside."

That, at last, makes Alec pay proper attention. Because while he's not about to converse with a demon, his words are not expected. What kind of game would he like to play with Alec by offering him a way out?

"Hold onto your feathers, little angel. I'm going to offer you an opportunity to get them and the rest of you out of here."

"Why?" It comes out raspy and not like his normal voice at all. Alec winces. At least the word is short.

"I want to leave, too."

"I'll sooner die-" he has to pause before continuing, "than let a demon out in the world for my own benefit."

"I thought you might say this. But you need to look closer. I'm not a demon."

"How are you not?" Every word is pain. He's breathed in so much bad air it's affected his speech.

"I'm as out of place here as you are. I'm a warlock and I can prove it."

Letting go of Alec, he snaps his fingers. A glass appears in his hand, made of strange dark glass and decorated with what looks like snakes. The demon makes a face at it. "Not what I'd call good taste, but I'm afraid this is what happens when you're under the influence of this realm for too long."

He offers the glass to Alec. "It's not Fiji water, but I promise it's _just_ water. Safe for you."

By the Angel. Alec's teeth clench so hard it hurts. The demon is offering him water. And he wants it. He _needs_ it, and he already knows he's going to take it. He's going to fail some kind of test, surely, but he's too weak.

He takes a first sip, the water washing down the dust in his dry mouth. The next sip is so much better, so good he nearly wants to cry.

"There." The demon says. "Now let me do a little more for you."

He reaches out again and this time puts both his hands on the sides of Alec's head, cupping his cheeks. The claws are sharp but he's careful not to press them to the Nephilim's skin.

Then he calls on his magic. It comes to him in sparks and light. It dances over Alec's skin and sinks into his body.

It feels like magic. That is, it feels like _warlock_ magic. Alec had been healed by warlocks before. So maybe, _maybe_ he's not being lied to right now.

Magic fills him with relief much like water has done for his throat, he feels it course to the tips of his toes and wings. This time his eyes actually tear up, his body finally having enough moisture in it to perform this basic function.

"My name is Magnus. Where are you from, little angel?"

"New York."

"Ah. I used to live there. I almost got to be one of your High Warlocks."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, you need to think of your home. What being here does to you, is that it burns away whatever is human about you. It started happening to you, yes? Humanity can't last, so you have to hold onto it before it all burns. Otherwise only demon blood or angel blood is left and you can't live with just that. I have to fight against it, too."

Alec stares down at his hands. He knows what the demon- warlock, is telling him is true.

"I will get us both out of here but I can't do that without help. So please stay with me. I've been alone long enough."

"Why?" Alec asks. He's not yet ready to rise, to stand on his legs. He's getting used to feeling every part of his body properly again.

"What why?"

"How are you here?"

"My father… the Greater Demon. He'd trapped me here for my magic, to use it in war."

"Asmodeus?" Alec asks. There were two Greater Demons who the Nephilim have encountered over the course of the war. One of them was destroyed.

"Yes. You've killed him, haven't you?"

"Not myself, but yes, we won against him."

"And so I owe you thanks. I would never have freed myself without his hold on me breaking. Now I'll help you."

He offers Alec his hand to help him stand. Alec puts his hand in his, ignoring the claws.

 


End file.
